by Zoe Forward
In a small voice she forced out, “Don’t worry. I don’t expect anything from you.” His rebuff stung. She just wished for one man in her life that wouldn’t reject or hurt her. Dakar didn’t reject you…not yet, her brain reminded her.
His face softened. “It’s not you, sweetheart. I’m sure you’re a great girl that would make any father proud. If Caitlin said you’re mine, I’ll believe her. The problem is me. I’m not father material.” He shifted and crossed his arms, as if suddenly uncomfortable being shirtless.
Shay forced a shrug. “What’s a senariai? Everyone keeps throwing this word around like it’s sacred or something.”
“It is sacred. Each of us has one woman to whom we’ve been matched by the gods for all time. Caitlin wasn’t mine.” He looked sad for a brief second before he ran a hand through his hair. The move was completely ineffective at soothing the errant spikes. “Do you even know what I am? What any of us are?”
“I know that I am entirely recovered after being stabbed.” Shay lifted her hand subconsciously to the left side of her face. “Too bad the doctor couldn’t fix my face.”
“Kira must’ve fixed it. There’s nothing other than a blue tattoo near your ear, which indicates she fixed something in the vicinity.”
Shay held her hand up to block her right eye. “Oh my God. I can see out of my left eye. I was blind after that daemon whacked me. Retinal damage that the docs couldn’t fix. What’d she do to me?”
Christian put his hand over his face. “Please tell me you weren’t that pitiful woman in the hospital in Cartagena.”
“You were there? I thought I saw Dakar when I woke up at one point. Did you have your healer woman do something to me then too?”
“Dakar forced Kira to help you. She only agreed to fix enough to wake you up.”
“Then you left me?”
“You were being evac-ed via helicopter to the States minutes after we found you. It would’ve been obvious some sort of non-Western medicine happened, if you suddenly jumped up from a coma completely healed. Our goal is to stay under the radar, undetected. Can you imagine what would happen if a magical healer is revealed to the world?”
“You’re really a magus, aren’t you?” She shook her head, smiling. Her father was a magus. Wow. Talk about Super Dads.
Christian flashed a wide white smile. “Yep.”
“I’m doing my Ph.D. on you guys. Small world, huh? After Mom spouted that stuff about you, I needed to prove you were real. I didn’t really believe in it. But guess I do now.”
“So, what’s up with you and Dakar?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You and he having any sort of mental connection?” He touched his forehead.
“No.”
“Interesting. He’s a little bit insane where you’re concerned...acts like you could be his senariai. I’ve heard when we meet her we have this instant on-going mental dialogue.”
“Definitely no communicating going on in my brain with him.”
****
Dakar watched Kira pull her vibrating cell phone from her scrubs’ shirt pocket while maintaining her sentry post at the door to the bedroom. She shot Dakar a warning evil eye as she answered. “Hi, Markus.” Pause. “You didn’t! I told you to stay away from Asheville…Markus? Markus!”
Kira’s face blanched. Her gaze bounced between Dakar and Khyan. She yelled into the phone, “If you so much as pluck out one hair on his head, I swear I will curse you with the most foul pestilence that ever existed for the rest of your days and anytime you return to the Human Realm.”
Ashor appeared as if out of thin air and yanked the phone from her palm. “We already had this conversation. Shits like you do not get the privilege of speaking with her. Ever.”
Dakar said, “It’s him, isn’t it? Djoser?”
Kira nodded.
Dakar demanded, “Let me speak with him.”
Ashor placed the phone in his palms and whispered, “Zip it. That means keep your mouth closed. For once, we might have an advantage. Obviously, he knows nothing of you being here. So don’t utter a single word. I’ll put it on speakerphone, so we can all hear.” He put a finger to his lips and hit the speakerphone. “What do you want?”
Djoser’s raspy voice echoed in the silent hallway from the phone. “How about the amulet in exchange for Markus. And I’ll even throw in his friend, Stephen Levin.”
“No.”
Djoser laughed. “Had to try. You never know how much the cousin of your healer is worth. How about the amulet in exchange for a not yet indoctrinated magus? A young one.”
“How would you know if you had one of us at that age?”
“The prophecy has been fulfilled. I have finally found him. Your spell keeper.”
“You’re referring to a prophecy foretold thousands of years ago. I think you’re full of desperate shit. I can’t guarantee I’ll ever get back to you on this one.”
“You are not even curious to know how I have ascertained he is the right one?”
“You’ve got one second of my time.”
“He recognized Shaiani.”
“Who?” Ashor asked.
“You guys really are brought back with no memory. I had not believed it. I thought the gods were narrow-minded, but this is priceless.” He laughed and low gritty sound. “Is Khyan there? Put him on. I guarantee he knows what I’m talking about. His bochnori wouldn’t dare let him forget her.”
Khyan said, “Yeah, I’m here. Where’d you find her? You sure you found the right girl or you just have a hard-on for any redhead?”
“Oh, I have my ways. She is quite…intriguing in her amnesiac state. The poor thing will have to suffer this life without having the pleasure of murdering that cretin brother of yours.” Djoser snickered. “Maybe this lifetime is my turn with her.”
Dakar roared and grabbed for the phone.
Khyan put him in a chokehold and threw him to the ground. He whispered, “Ashor is right. Get a grip. You’re the one advantage we’ve got.”
Ashor protected the phone from the chaos. When he removed his hands from the device, there was laughter and then nothing. Ashor announced, “He hung up.”
****
“Thank you, Mr. Langford. That should do it.” Terek announced as he rested Markus’s cell phone on his desk. He waved at the Fedavis standing in the doorway. “Kumar, take Mr. Langford back to holding. Tell Rishi he may proceed with Markus.”
“They won’t come,” Markus yelled as he was forced from the room. “They’re not that stupid.”
“They will come. And we will be ready when they do.” He hadn’t been this excited in years. To have finally found the reincarnation of the treacherous, unfaithful bitch that had led to his human demise and be simultaneously so close to acquiring the amulet…this was as close to divine as he could imagine. Now, he just had to find Shaiani again. His men had chased her, a few had died oddly with burns, and then her trail went cold. The burns reminded him of the fire magus. Anxiety gripped his mind. Not possible, he told himself. Dakarai was stuck in hell. If not, that magus would have been released long ago when he’d first been summoned back into the Human Realm. And guaranteed hunting him down would’ve topped Dakarai’s to-do list when he returned.
Shaiani’s bochnori must’ve taught her some tricks, which made her dangerous. And even more intriguing.
Every time her image skirted through his mind his body returned to a state of painful arousal. Distracted and unable to focus on suppressing his daemon nature, he kept losing control at random. He’d tripled his dose of pentobarbital. Despite his failure to feel with Nasha, he had given himself a hand job when the arousal returned, thinking only of Shaiani. For the first time in centuries, he experienced euphoria at the release, even if it did not quench his need to be inside a woman. But obviously not any woman, as he’d discovered with Nasha.
He ground his molars hating the sensitized skin of his groin. The ability to experience sensation was no longer novel. Now it was an
annoying distraction he needed to resolve.
He jabbed a syringe of pentobarb into his left thigh and sat hard in his desk chair, glaring at the ceiling. As the mind-null hit, all feeling dulled. And finally he could think. Why did this happen? Why her and why now?
As if a door opened in his mind, the answer appeared. The curse had boomeranged. It swung right around and bit him in the ass. Didn’t he warn all his pupils that casting eternity curses wasn’t to be taken lightly? Ricochet and random were the norm. After so many centuries, he presumed he’d cast the perfect curse. He must figure out how to modify the curse to leave him out of it. Perhaps he could at least enjoy this for a bit once he had her, though.
He envisioned making her scream with pain before he came. He couldn’t wait.
Thank the gods for marooning Dakar in the Middle Realm centuries ago, where he would be trapped for all eternity. Shaiani could be his toy this time around. And how delightful, if she had no memory.
Chapter Eighteen
Ashor gritted out, “A pre-mag knows Shay? You level with me right now, Khyan. What the hell is going on?” He caught Dakar in a lethal glare and pointed at the bedroom. “You know that girl from a previous lifetime, don’t you?”
Dakar gave a curt nod. “So does Djoser.”
“He goes by Terek Nadir right now.”
Dakar shrugged. “Djoser. Terek. Same evil cocksucker that would do almost anything to get his hands on her.” Dakar glanced upwards and blew out a resigned sigh. Damn the gods for their games.
Ashor asked, “Why would a daemon that has somehow figured out how to stay coherent in a possessed human body and suppress the killing urge be interested in a human woman? This one in particular?”
“I stole her from him.”
“You stole a woman from the daemon? I didn’t think daemons had any interest in humans, at least sexually. They just want to kill humans for the high.”
“He was human when this occurred. I know not if daemons are capable of being with a human. This is about revenge, hate, and some other bullshit. It’s complicated.”
“From what I gather, this daemon was a second dynasty Egyptian pharaoh. Were you a magus and he a pharaoh when you stole his mistress?”
“Yes, he was Pharaoh. She was intended as his third wife.” Dakar retied his hair away from his face.
“You stole a pharaoh’s fiancé?” Ashor asked.
With a rare smile, Dakar said, “Yes.”
“Some pretty bad shit went down a long time ago with this daemon,” Khyan said.
“No stalling. Spit it out. Now.” If steam could roll from Ashor’s nostrils, it would’ve done so. Rage poured off him in waves of pulsating energy.
The bedroom door opened and Christian stepped out.
For Dakar, all interest in discussing the past dissipated with one glimpse of the elated look on Christian’s face. His brain shot straight into a homicidal haze. The rake did not get to complicate his mess with Shaiani. No way did he get to touch what was his.
Christian cast him a glare fierce with challenge. “Stay away. You’re not good enough for her.”
Dakar reigned in his impulse to decapitate and dismember. He gritted out, “What is she to you?”
“None of your business.”
“Uuuggh,” Khyan groaned. “Wrong answer, Christian.”
Dakar was across the room towering over Christian in less than a second. He growled. “Everything that has to do with her is my business. Is she your senariai?”
A flicker of fear registered on Christian’s face, but then passed. “No. Is she yours?”
Relief swept through Dakar. He wouldn’t have to kill a non-Turned magus. In that moment, he knew he was within seconds of flipping. Of Turning. Of going full-on crazy-ass lethal. He had never Turned, at least not completely. That didn’t mean he wasn’t familiar with the kem-seki pressing on his mind, demanding he give into base desire and irrational destruction. Dark fury rolled in like a storm, threatening to take over. The kem-seki demanded he tear this smug asshole to shreds. His mind clouded within the haze of darkness.
He needed her. Now. She could make the darkness go away, at least for a while.
Christian prompted, “You act like she’s your senariai.”
Dakar reached for calm, but failed. His priority need had been denied for far too long. He required a little horizontal mambo with one green-eyed redhead. Beneath him, on top of him, surrounding him. He needed her like water for a critically dehydrated man in the desert. Without her, sanity would be no more.
“Get out of his way, Christian,” Khyan ordered.
“No. He looks like he’s going to murder her. I’m not letting him anywhere near her.”
Khyan jumped for Christian and physically shoved him out of Dakar’s path.
****
Shitkickers planted wide and fists curled at his side, Dakar looked as if he’d just had one too many fuck-you buttons pushed.
From her perch on the far side of the bed, a shiver of fear crawled into Shay’s chest. She shot to her feet and back-scooted until the wall hugged her back. Should I fear him? she asked the moving tattoo. It did nothing. She didn’t know how to interpret that.
Softly she asked, “Dakar?”
He was across the room and in front of her before she could whisper a startled cry.
The black swirling substance completely clouded the copper of his irises, giving him a feral edge. A fisted knife in his right hand rose toward her. Her heartbeat went triple count. Oh God, he’s here to kill me. Anyone who moved that fast wasn’t someone she could outrun. He towered over her, solid as a brick shithouse. Overpowering him was ridiculous.
Trapped.
Endless seconds of rapid breathing stretched between them. He flipped the blade and pushed its handle toward her. In a strangled whisper, he rasped out, “This is our only salvation.” The swirling blackness of his eyes slowed. “But I cannot.”
“What are you talking about?”
He pressed the blade handle into her right palm and wrapped her fingers around its wide grip. He dragged the blade to his chest until its point pressed against his shirt, over his heart. “I have failed us. Please. End this. Take my life. Next time I will try to be stronger.” He placed his free hand against her cheek. “I cannot taste paradise again only to have it ripped away. Not again.” She barely caught his whisper. “I want forever.”
She pulled the knife away from his chest. It thudded onto the hardwood floor. “What is this about? Are you deranged? We’ve never had a last time. You’ve got me seriously confused with someone else.” She edged away from him, but he snagged her arm.
“What do you want from me?” she whispered as she tugged for release.
“We’ve had more last times that you can possibly imagine.” A large hand cradled the back of her head. The other released her arm. Somehow his hand in her hair immobilized her.
He brushed a finger down her cheek. “You are flushed.”
Oh God, his voice. That husky baritone promised a kind of rapture she’d only fantasized about. One deep breath saturated her nostrils with the smell of hardcore male—testosterone, power, and sex.
The soft pad of his finger moved over her lips, which parted. “Are you remembering our kiss? And you want it again.”
Yes. Oh, hell, yes.
His finger moved down her throat and lingered. “Your heart races.” His finger traced lower, teasing the straining tip of her nipple. “You want it all this time. Are you ready for me?” Heated eyes returned to hers. The intensity of his desire squeezed the air from her chest.
Please, yes, she begged silently.
“Answer me, Shaiani.”
She gripped his forearms—an anchor against the weakness assaulting her legs. He was so big, hard, and broad. Blood poured anticipation through her veins. Anticipation of something she had no plans to allow, not that her body listened. Dampness prepared her sex. What is wrong with me? He just threatened to kill me and then wanted me to kill him. He
’s crazy.
Dakar bent his head down placing his lips on hers and teased a feather-light touch. His heavy arousal was obvious. Lust hit so violently that her entire body cramped. Her core clenched, needing to finish what they’d started earlier. With a swallow, she fought the wave of pulsating need. Those pecks on her mouth weren’t hard enough, raw enough. She didn’t need careful or teasing. She wanted it pounding, hot, and…now. She wanted all the power and edge she instinctually knew he could deliver. Him this in control wasn’t acceptable.
With a groan, she gripped the back of his head and pressed herself tight. Her tongue swept into his mouth. Her teeth nibbled his lower lip and bit. She’d never bitten a man in her life until him. Somehow, she couldn’t stop herself. She wanted him pained and slightly angry.
He growled. What had been tentative and teasing turned hardcore in a second. His kiss went open mouth and thorough. His hands moved everywhere.
Then they were on the bed, his pelvis pressing into hers. She needed to peel the clothes from his spectacular body. Then he’d rip the panties from hers.
Wait! Her mind screamed. He just threatened to kill me. The guy is not right in the head. But, holy shit. He demonstrated a mastery of her body that was, like the last time, shocking. He knew every button to push. Every right way to stroke. His hand pushed at her wet panties and somehow he knew this time the moment his stroking had her at the cliff’s edge. He stopped.
She moaned and undulated against him delirious with the need to find that denied release.
Gruffly he demanded, “Ask me for it. I know you want it.”
She would see him in hell before she begged. She glared mutely into his dilated gaze. Several long seconds of silence passed, filled only by their mutual heavy panting.
A smile pricked the corners of his lips. “Gods, you are as spectacular a fighter as ever. I want to be inside you.”
She groaned at the guttural declaration, and wanted him with a desperation that she equated with insanity. But what of the inconsistency within him? He may be turned on sexually, but he had some sort of murder issue. The why of it remained unclear.
